Below are the prizes which have been generously donated by colleagues & friends from across the tourism and hospitality industry and art world. They make up the Grand Christmas Draw which is taking part at Travel Massive Edinburgh’s Christmas event on The Royal Yacht Britannia on 6 December.

Its 13 months now since my diagnosis with Acute Meyloid Leukaemia. A big part of ‘moving on’ for me has included looking back and acknowledging how far I’ve come.

I have quite sketchy memories of how ill I was when I was admitted to hospital. Being unable to ‘walk the length of myself’ and requiring up to three IV antibiotics at once because of sepsis hammer home the speed and severity of AML striking.

The faint blueish tinge which circled my inner arm following a horribly infected PICC line has at last gone. The 3 scars on my chest and neck which show where my Hickman lines were are fading. I remember how annoyed I was that I even needed one. So 40 odd units of blood and hundreds of vials of blood to be tested later, these lines were simply a life saver.

I remembered the other day how I’d spent late September and early October 2015 waiting for my neutrophils to rise after my first, 10 day long chemo. No matter how often I asked, no matter how much I hoped for the numbers to move up, the docs experience was bang on. He said it would most likely take a month from starting chemo to my being well enough to go home. 31 days later, I escaped! Granted it was short lived and less than 72 hours later I was readmitted due to infection – but I got a wee taste of outside.

When I heard in late November that I was to have a Stem Cell transplant (SCT) I knew virtually nothing about that process. 3 short months later my understanding was deep and often comprised of ‘too much information’. I’d had the ‘this could kill you or cure you’ conversation with the transplant team, they’d narrowed the worldwide search down to an 18 year old UK male who matched me 10/10 and I’d been fed through the SCT sausage machine. Coming out the other end I was more battered and bruised than I let on. But I was still here. I’d jumped the first hurdle.

Stuff anyone who pooh poohs the target of +100 days. It’s bloody important to have positive goals to focus on when you feel like you’ve been to hell and back. I still felt pretty rotten on day 100. But I knew that I was 100 times better than when I’d just been discharged. Any I’m a million times better today.

So many things have changed – in me, in my life, in the world around me. However what’s strangely comforting is how much has remained the same. There is actually something nice about being able to still do things I did pre-diagnosis. Probably because despite my wholly positive outlook during my treatment there was always a degree of panic about what could go wrong.

And now that I am feeling a million times better I wanted to tip my hat to those who’ve helped me and kicked my ass along the way. My husband Steve, has had to witness stuff he really shouldn’t have. He’s put up with me having the SCT version of constant ‘morning sickness’ for four months. He held our world together and kept it real for me. He was quite simply my saviour.

My family and friends have rallied round and done crazy big things to fund raise, tiny every day things to keep my spirits up and generally gathered round me to make sure I kept marching ahead every day.

I’ve written before about the amazing care I received from NHS (The Western General & The Beatson). But there is also the care that Maggie’s provided for ‘my head’. They’ve more than fulfilled their founders mission that people with cancer never “lose the joy of living in the fear of dying”. I’m loving living, every single day!

Bloodwise have stood head and shoulders above other cancer charities for me. From the disease specific information they supplied to the chance to interact with others who’d already walked the road I was travelling. They are a young, dynamic and hugely caring team who genuinely believe that together we can beat blood cancer. Their belief in me, and the support they’ve given me to ‘pay it forward’ and help others who are just starting this blood cancer journey as been truly humbling. I hope that I can be a good ambassador for them.

So, its with a positive outlook that I turn and continue my journey on the road to normal (and all the new, different and exciting places I’ve not yet visited). A fellow SCT recipient said to me today, “I feel its time to draw a line under this, and move on”. I agree. We’ve made it to the end of this crappy chapter. Lets turn the page and dive into the rest of the book!

September 2015 was Blood Cancer Awareness month. I had no idea. A year ago today I didn’t know I had leukaemia. 24 hours later I had been diagnosed and my life changed forever.

Leukaemia is part of a group of 137 blood cancers which are the fifth most common cancers and the third biggest killer in the UK.

This year I’m acutely aware of Blood Cancer Awareness month. Every media mention, each poster hung, countless online discussions remind me that the campaign is a wee bit about me. It is about raising awareness in order to increase support for the research that Bloodwise does. About demystifying the process of stem cell transplants coordinated by Anthony Nolan. Encouraging new and lapsed donors to regularly give blood.

I’m glad to be a Bloodwise Ambassador, particularly this month. Helping raise awareness by sharing my story is something real and positive that I can do. Countless others who’ve walked this road before me have contributed to my recovery. Now I’m paying it forward.

And the question in the title? I’m starting to glue myself back together, slowly, piece by piece. Who knows what the final outcome will be. What I do know is I won’t be exactly the same as I was before 15 September 2015. I think I’ll always be a wee bit wonky from now on. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing – is it?

I received a message this afternoon from Keri @Bloodwise in Edinburgh to tell me that colleagues from work (Scottish Enterprise) have just donated a further £776 to the charity.

Once again I’m blown away by the generosity of my friends, family and colleagues. A quick tally brings us to over £6,000 raised now and shared between Bloodwise, Ward 8 at the Western General, Edinburgh and Macmillan.

#GoHelen

I’ve tried to pass on my sincere thanks to everyone who has made huge efforts to fund-raise in my name but I know that there will have been lots of you that I’ve not been in touch with yet. Please know that your efforts mean the world to Steve and I and that every £ is going to make a huge difference.

As you can see the fundraising t-shirts co-ordinated by Auntie Barbara and her ‘team’ made it to many corners of the globe (NYC, Melbourne, Granada, Dubai, Belgium, Bali & Edinburgh to name but a few).

These images have made me smile over and over and I never fail to be impressed that so many folk have made so much effort in my name. And here’s what it has all been about. Getting me from this on 19th February 2016

There are several UK based organisations who’d love you to get involved in saving a life today.

You can be a life saver for someone like me who has been impacted by one of the 137 blood cancers by joining a stem cell register and also by donating blood and platelets. And of course there is ALWAYS a need for money so fundraising is vital too.

It’s likely that most of you will be aware of the Scottish National Blood Transfusion Service – these guys want your blood! And platelets. And they manage a register of folks willing to be a stem cell donor. They are a busy bunch and details of how you can get involved are on their website.

You may also have heard about Anthony Nolan. This is probably the best known organisation which runs a stem cell register. Their current tag line is ‘Are you fit to spit?’ hence my blog title. They are a charity who register fit and healthy prospective donors between 18 – 30 (who will remain on their register till they are 60). They’ve made this smart wee video which explains stem cell transplants far better than I can.

DKMS are the third organisation who maintain a register and they will accept new registrations from people up to age 55.

The important thing to note is that all of these organisations work together pulling potential donor information (along with their worldwide counterparts) together when a call comes in from a transplant team looking for a match.

And finally the charity that puts a big protective, umbrella over all of us fighting blood cancer is Bloodwise. They support patients and families and fund ground breaking research including 220 current projects worth £90 million. It’s this research which will allow us to beat blood cancer in this lifetime.

So will you take a minute today to register as a stem cell donor with a simple spit test? Can you spare an hour to donate blood or a couple of hours on a regular basis to become a platelet donor?

I’d not be here writing this blog if others hadn’t given their time already. Go on. You’ve got everything to gain. xx

I returned to Glasgow today to see my consultants and met a lovely couple, Cameron and Michele. Cameron is about +30 days from his transplant.

They’ve been reading my blog and both of them commented on how well I looked, as did Dr Chris who we also caught up with. I’ve not seen Chris since leaving The Beatson so he’d remember me at my most grotty!

Their comments made me think about the importance of making a wee bit of effort each day if you are able to. I know before anyone mutters that sometimes getting out of bed after a transplant is as much effort as they could manage that it’s not always easy. However, I genuinely believe that the psychological benefits of making an effort with yourself do pay dividends. Just look at the testimonials received by the Look Good Feel Better course attendees for confirmation of this.

Whilst undergoing my initial three rounds of chemo I managed to wear some make-up most days. My hair may have disappeared but I was lucky still to have eyebrows and lashes so my little bit of war paint brightened up my face and my day. Dr J was always keen to see which wacky colour of nail varnish I’d have on for his visits and the nurses were guaranteed as supply of remover if they’d mistakenly come to work with painted nails!

The first week or so after my transplant was a make-up free zone simply because I was feeling so rubbish but regaining the impetus to wear some mascara after about 10 days absolutely lifted my spirits and gave me a wee bit of myself back.

I think that the act of taking care of yourself and turning your strongest, most positive face to look your cancer directly in the eye is one of the patients strongest weapons. The docs have their arsenal of drugs and treatments but if this fight really is a team effort, then we patients have a responsibility to engage fully, not just to simply remain a passive bystander. We can do this by focusing on making small gains every day – even if that is only a slash of red lipstick or some perfume.

My ‘game face’ comprises as much positivity as I can deliver; some well applied make-up; my ‘best’ hair and even some wacky purple or blue nails!

Whatever gets you in the right frame of mind to keep taking bold steps forward on your road to recovery must be a good thing. (Not sure if I’d recommend purple nails for the guys reading this! Although Eddie Izzard carries of a red nail extremely well!)

Wishing Cameron all the best as he crunches through the next few weeks. As I said today, in February Day 100 felt like a lifetime away, but look, I’ve made it and so will you!

Having lived the life of a hermit since last September I was finally able to grab a small slice of normality last week on a short break.

Steve & I had been invited by Caroline Millar, owner of the stunning Hideaway Experience in Angus to be her guest for a couple of nights R&R. This would be our second visit to the Hideaways which are three completely private, romantic couples retreats located on Caroline’s family farm just 15 minutes from the centre of Dundee. The properties have every luxury imaginable – sauna, outdoor hot-tub, millionaire views and total calm.

This was simply the best place to enjoy our first trip ‘away’ since my diagnosis and treatment. I was surprised at how full of trepidation I was before the visit. This is an hour and a half from home, somewhere I’ve been before – what’s to worry about? My ‘sensible head’ knew there was nothing at all to concern me, however 9 months of life changing situations mess with your head a bit!

The trip went without a hitch and more than anything its been a step in the getting back to normal process that I’m craving. Its also given me a confidence boost for our next trip which is to the beautiful island of Islay next month.

I’m also just 2 days from a milestone which back on February 19th felt like a lifetime away. My transplant will be 100 days old on Thursday 26th May! This is a chunky target from the medics point of view and everything on transplant day is focused on making it to Day 100.

I was always intent on getting there with as few complications as possible. Its only now I realise that the doctors were actually more concerned about simply getting me there – alive.

My results have been good so far and I’m scheduled to have a bone marrow biopsy (ouch) next week to do a good sweep around making sure that there are no leukaemia traces left in me………..this is the big test of all the treatment and hard graft by my new cells.

My energy levels are continuing to improve. Drugs are lessening every seven days. Hospital visits are now down to once weekly and hopefully should be even less after Thursdays milestone.

And my brain……at last it seems to be starting to come alive again. I’m reading. I’m spending time writing and thinking about possible fundraising projects for Bloodwise who’ve recruited me as an ambassador. I’ve started to be able to participate more fully in conversations (which some may see as a bad thing!). I’m getting me back.

A quick update and an apology for the long silence.

I’ve been working my way though the routine of the past 50’ish days since my last post and realise that I’ve neglected to provide a proper update for readers.

Weeks 3 – 6 were pretty grotty to be honest. Nothing out of the ordinary according to the docs but pretty crap from my point of view. Sleeping masses. Pretty lethargic all the time and nausea like I’ve never experienced – and hope I never have to again.

The fatigue is simply something which I need to deal with and go with the flow. Friends will understand how hard this is for me! The nausea however was something that the docs could try and help with. They chucked new drugs at me and also stripped some non-essential pills out of my daily regime. This plan eventually worked and I began to feel more human.

I can’t really blame my system for feeling sick and upset with the number of drugs I was swallowing. Thanks for a great tip from my pal Audrey in Florida, which was to spread the drugs across several hours rather than attempt all in one go! The advice really helped.

I’m now at +68 and feeling better every day. My neutrophils are 100% donor which is brilliant. Other blood results will follow next week I think but everything appears to be going in exactly the right direction. I’ve been transferred to being partly looked after by my old team in Edinburgh at the Western General so only have to travel to Glasgow once a week. I’m also driving again (locally)- woohhhhhhhh!!!!!!! Freedom!

And finally on Monday the good news that my blood counts are fine for me to be back at the gym. This means that even if its snowing here (as it was today) I can get some much needed exercise. I’m trying to either fit in a walk or a trip to the gym every day and this is definitely helping my energy levels.

My Facebook plas will already have seen this but for everyone else here is my first job as an Ambassador for Bloodwise. Keeping fingers crossed that the publicity will generate new sign ups for the various donor registers and glad to have contributed to the £300k raised for Bloodwise during the Virgin London Marathon.

Throughout the process of treatment and run up to my Stem Cell Transplant (STC) the docs have continually cautioned me about being over optimistic. I find this quite challenging to deal with as I’m a glass three quarters full kind of gal…..but hey, these guys know that there are as many pitfalls on this journey as clear, four lane motorways!

It was with this caution in mind that I tried to keep a lid on my impatience / excitement as we neared day +10 which is the first likely day after transplant that signs of engraftment could show. (This would be significantly increased numbers of blood cells, neutrophils and platelets). The medics made encouraging noises. Every thing going to plan. Seems that you are managing this all pretty well. Blah….Blah….blah……

Then on day +11 doctor Chris came bouncing in with his usual happy enthusiasm – I really liked him and felt that he was a great example of a genuine individual who is well on the road to becoming an excellent haematology consultant. Your counts are looking fantastic today. They are showing all the signs of engraftment!!

Wow! To say I was over the moon is the understatement of the year. I was beside myself with excitement. Of course I needed to speak to Steve and my family and let them know…and would you believe it, everyone was busy. So texts were dispatched and from Aberdeen to Argyll there were whoops of excitement and joy when everyone did finally look at their phones.

I’ve read in others blogs about the grim moments suddenly being forgotten when good news such as this comes along. And I would wholeheartedly concur. The agony of the severe reaction I’d had to the growth hormones earlier in the week suddenly faded into the background. I thought well, at least the pain was perhaps worth it if it helped my engraftment.

And even more good news the following day when Dr Alison announced if there were no further complications then they’d be looking to discharge me over the weekend. So I could be in, chemoed, transplanted, engrafted and home in 22 days. Total. Truly spectacular in my book. So I behaved. I ate – despite mucositis in my mouth and throat. I ate despite horrible acid and heartburn. And I took all my medications orally despite having to take soluble pain killers first so that I could swallow 15 tablets at a sitting.

I did all this because I knew if I couldn’t then I would be staying in hospital. For my own safety. But the positive mind is a truly powerful thing. I willed improvements in all of the potential setbacks and I really believe that will helped me power thru these obstacles. That and Ganesh my wee elephant god. The god of moving obstacles.

Thanks to everyone who visited me in the wonderful Beatson. Thanks also to my news group crew who again kept me going during my 22 days – particularly my time in solitary confinement. Home now and loving it!

As I twiddle my thumbs waiting for my graft to happen and my counts to wake up – I’ve been thinking about the things I’ve missed most since my diagnosis in September.

Undoubtedly the most significant thing is freedom. Freedom to plan, go outside, travel and even freedom to eat soft poached eggs!

I’ve realised that most of us take our freedom for granted and its withdrawal came, for me at least, as an almighty earthquake. I was living life to the full. At 100 miles an hour – and loving it. Steve and I have travelled to some wonderful places and I relished any opportunity to plan adventures.

We have a very good social life and a week without a night out with friends for food and drink was rare. My work also provided me with lots of freedom. To meet new people, develop exciting projects – basically freedom to dive in and get involved.

The current loss of ‘travel privileges’ is absolutely murder! We were forced to cancel three exciting trips between September and January as a result of my diagnosis. Our month in South Africa for Christmas was to be the highlight of Steve’s ‘big birthday’ year. What a blow. All on hold.

What is sustaining me though are the experiences of others I’ve met who have beaten AML. Only this week I’ve seen pictures of Scott whose now 2+ years clear on the slopes in Switzerland and heard about some of the holidays Liz has been on in her 10 years since SCT.

I must temper my patience and find a way to content myself with comprehensive planning – even at first if it’s simple a weekend away in Scotland. That will give more pleasure that anyone can imagine.

And I look to my friend Ann and her lovely husband Ian who has been a warrior, continuing to beat his cancer diagnosis. “Get planning” she told me. “It’s the fuel that inspires you to keep going through rough days”.